Mine Own Silver Shadow
by darkmorsmordreheart
Summary: D&H. Blood and sex, is there anything better for a vampire fic?


Mine Own Silver Shadow

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**Summary:** D/H. Blood and sex, is there anything better for a vampire fic?

**Warning:** Slash. Sex. Language. Vampires. You have been warned.

**Disclaimer:** I am not J.K. Rowling and I do not own the characters of the Harry Potter series and, no, I will never be J.K. Rowling, not even in another dimension, nor will I ever own her beautiful work, much to my dismay.

**Author's Note:** Thank you, forbiddenlover, for giving me a challenge. Hope you like it!

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"Nice costume, Draco."

He smiles at the compliments. He always has compliments to smile at, but he deserves them, I guess. He does look . . . nice, I suppose.

He's grown his hair just enough to be able to pull into a sloppy ponytail, leaving a few stray strands to fall perfectly into liquid silver eyes. I'm envious. I'll never be able to do that.

And there is the way he carries himself. His walk, his stride, strut, whatever you want to call it. It enthralls you. It hypnotizes so that the only thing you are willing to look at is his stride and all you can do is hope and pray that it is in your direction. He carries himself in a way that you know that he knows that you want him.

I smile at my own words, then wince and quickly end my grinning.

"Nice threads, Drake."

"Yeah, you'll win the contest for sure."

I laugh as he smiles at his Slytherin fans, surprising them with his realistic fangs. His costume really is ingenious. Completely white so that at first glance he seems like an angel, all pale skin and silver hair, the only thing missing is his wings. Instead, he has fangs. A deceiving vampire, he tells them.

The fool. He knows nothing. But he will soon learn.

I follow them into the Great Hall, so full of decorations and festive students that they do not even notice me. All Hallows' Eve is a special time for magical beings. It is a time of connection of everything to everything. It is a time of moonlight. It is a time of darkness. It is a time of life as much as it is a time for death.

I almost smile. The entirety of the school is here and no one notices me. Least of all him.

I'm so close to him, I can smell his hair. So clean, crisp. Like after a rainstorm.

I wish to nuzzle him. To bury my face into the mass of straight, silk locks, but I resist. Later, I promise myself. Much later. Instead, I watch as the dances begin. He dances at almost every song, different partners touching different parts of him and he loves it. The whore . . .

He will learn, but later . . . later.

I watch him silently for hours, not moving from my spot in the corner, just waiting for my chance and when I see it, I allow myself to smile.

I follow him into the haunted gardens that the orchestrators of this dance have been growing for weeks. Sure, the school itself is haunted, ghosts glide in and out of every room every day, but there are no ghosts here. This garden is made of darkness. Of plants that are not quite plants and shadows that are not quite shadows. I reach over to one shadowy vine and pull out what appears to be a wispy black rose. It looks to be made of smoke and when I move it back and forth, it leaves behind a thin black trail.

I look up from the ghostly flower and see that Draco has gone.

I feel the hairs on my neck and smile at his cleverness. How he ever managed to notice me _and_ get behind me, I'll never know. I blame it on this distracting flower and begin to tear it apart, shadowy petal by shadowy petal.

I walk slowly, leaving behind a trail of shadows so that my silver shadow can follow closely. Finally, we reach what seems to be the atrium of the garden. There's a fountain that flows shadows that creep up and appear to take the place of a glass roof. I look up at our shadowed cover and smile broadly when I feel a wand of hawthorn on the back of my neck.

"Potter."

"Malfoy." I turn casually and face him, looking into his silver eyes with pleasure.

"What the hell are you playing at, following me like this?" he asks, his 'fangs' glinting in the light leaking in through the shadows. I don't answer; just simply continue to look into his eyes until he lowers his wand. I step closer and closer until he can feel my cool breath against his lips. "What? How---"

My lips silence him. He seems surprised. He must have seen this coming. I was being quite obvious, after all. My mouth invades his. My tongue traces his teeth, both real and conjured, and my teeth nibble his lips.

One of his hands is curled into my side---the one with the wand, I feel it in my ribs---and his other roams into my hair as he accepts the kiss. He's the one who deepens it. He's the one who moans. He's the one who bleeds.

The blood my fangs coaxed from his lips seeps into my mouth, both nourishing and filling me with a lust for more. I push him roughly away from me and allow him to see what I truly am. His eyes are fixed to my slightly opened mouth and, as if he just notices the blood flowing from it, he brings his finger up to his own. Silver eyes widen as they see the crimson coat the pale fingers.

Though he is more than a foot away from me, I can sense everything that's happening to him. His breathing picks up. His heart rate increases. And best of all, he fears.

I sense that he wants to run, so to give him a chance, I look down at the specter flower in my hand and blow it away into the rest of the gloom. When I lift my head, my silver shadow is gone.

I know I can catch him within seconds. Not only is his fear so prominent that it might as well be leading me to him with signs and arrows, but he is allowing the scent of his blood into the air and I follow it, like a dog to a bone.

My shadow leads me into the forest, an even more haunted place than the gardens. Its trees stand like skeletal sentinels, protecting and hiding their secrets. I close my eyes and slow my heartbeat so I can feel his.

When I open my eyes, I know that I am not in control of my body now. The demon that has stolen my soul is and he's hungry. His feast is waiting. His silver shadow.

I move quickly through the forest, the trees nothing but eerie white blurs to me as I pass them. The forest creatures run, scared of what's bigger and what's stronger, not daring to go anywhere near. One creature in particular is being extremely evasive. The demon regrets my earlier attempts to play chase with my shadow now that he's hungry . . .

My shadow is using magic to get away from me.

Foolish lover, do you not know what I am? I am stronger than meager magic. I am the night and the moonlight. I am the forest you walk in now, the air you breathe, the water you drink to live. I am elemental and I own you.

I finally pause and lounge quietly in the tree he pants against. His eyes glow in the dark, even more so than mine, and I can see sweat glistening on his forehead, dampening his beautiful hair. I want to taste it. I want to taste him. All of him. I leap down from the tree, my landing as quiet as a leopard's would be and walk up behind him. His forehead is resting against the tree trunk, so he doesn't see when I pin my hands on either side of him, when I trap him.

He doesn't notice me until I kiss the damp skin at his nape.

He moans such beautiful moans. Deep and guttural, not forced, not practiced, but real. I pleasure him with my tongue against his neck alone and it arouses him so that he's grinding himself against the tree. I push into him so he can feel my hardness. I nuzzle his hair as I promised myself earlier.

"This is for you," I whisper into his ear, though no one else is around to hear us. "This is for you, but not just for tonight, sweet Draco. For longer, this can be yours. Do you accept me?"

"Yes," he moans so softly that no one without my abilities would be able to hear it.

I smile against his neck so that he feels my fangs and gasps and---while his mouth is still open---I pull his lips to mine. Our tongues mate and I relish in the taste of blood left over from our last kiss. I turn him so that he's facing me with his back against the tree and I continue the assault on his mouth.

When I pull back, he whimpers.

"Hush, Draco."

"Why can't I run from you?" he asks, he voice low and rough.

"Why would you run from me?" I ask back, lifting his slender wrists and looking at the delicate veins showcased through his skin. "Hmm, my little vampire? . . . Do you have any idea what I can do to you? How I can pleasure you?"

"I've read about what you are," he snaps. "I know how to kill you!"

"Then do so," I challenge, lifting his wrist to my mouth and licking the veins. All the while I look straight into liquid silver eyes.

Then there is silence.

"I-I . . . I can't," he answers finally, the tone of his voice a defeated one.

"And why is that?"

His eyes change, no longer desperate, but something else. "Because I want you."

"Like this?" I ask, brushing the tip of one fang against a vein. He nods and closes his eyes, waiting for the bite. "Draco?"

He opens his eyes again and glances at me briefly, but that all the time I need to show him what it looks like to drink from him. I suck at first, then squeeze the cut---inciting a gasp from him---and lave at the steady stream of life his body provides me.

When I'm finished, I force his wrist to his own mouth. He is hesitant, but his eyes leave the fresh scarlet on my lips. "Taste," I encourage.

His lips tremble as he drinks his fill. His eyes close with what I feel is fear and disgust. I smile and take his wrist from him, running a finger over it and healing the wound. The crimson stands out to me. "Draco, you look so beautiful with color on your skin."

My thumb dips past his lips where he lavishes it with his waiting tongue. I know that I cannot suppress my moan, so I don't even attempt it---I just try to make him moan louder. As he sucks my finger, I begin to undress him with my free hand. With every inch of pale flesh revealed my lust to pound into him increases.

I rake my nails down his sides when everything that had separated me from his chest is pooled around us on the forest floor. I pull him down, into my lap, and kiss and suck every succulent part of him I can reach. His own hands roam my body, tearing and tugging at my clothing, awkwardly pulling them off with a kind of desperation I've only ever witnessed with my own bloodlust.

"Harry . . . Harry," he grates out hoarsely against my mouth, grinding his lower half against mine. He's pleading; I know not what for; in fear or for desire, so I merely ignore him and work my cool hand into his trousers and take his warm flesh into my palm. "Harry!"

My fangs graze his neck as I steadily stroke him, his incoherent begging ringing into my ears, but not affecting my pace at all. My hand tightens and stills as he begins to buck against it and he moans out in frustration.

"Do you want to come?"

He nods frantically, his eyes flashing as silver as his hair. I raise myself to my knees and turn him around to face the tree, pinning his wrists to the trunk. I pull our pants down and press myself to him, assuring him of what he will be receiving from me. He moans and grinds back against me, anxious for completion.

I enter him without preparation and he screams out with pain and pleasure, his hands struggling to get out of my grip so he can stroke his erection. I bite him again, not to drink but merely to watch in fascination at the scarlet running down the ivory of his body. "You are so beautiful, Draco."

He is beautiful. So much so that I almost regret what I'm to do next.

I lap at his blood, stroking my tongue against my neck in swirling motions that make him cry out and I bite him again. I bring my naked wrist to his lips and push it against his fangs, breaking the skin and causing my blood to gush into his mouth. He screams out as my pace increases; I'm thrusting into him now as if my life---or immortality---depends on it. He drinks from me, feeds, and comes, shooting his load onto the tree before us and sobbing out my name.

I pull my silver lover's hair until his face is lined up with his and I take his mouth fiercely as I ride out my own completion.

We are quiet afterwards, only because I am allowing him to adjust to the changes. Everything must be different to him. New sight, new scents . . . Even the feeling of my skin against his must be different from before. He's shaking and I pull him closer to me, not for warmth---which he can never gain from my cold body---but for support.

He pulls away from me, pushes me back, and stands. The look he gives me is one of cold contempt. I merely lay back on the cool moss of the forest ground and smile; my fangs glinting in the moonlight. He stares at my fangs and brings his fingers up to his own, knowing now that they are less conjured and more permanent.

Silver tears begin to fall from eyes as he looks down at me and I only smile back.

He falls to his knees and crawls in between my legs to be cradled against my chest. He closes his eyes and presses his ear to the space of skin my heart should be beating under. I watch his lips curve up in acceptance and my own grin only widens as I wrap my arms around him. He will stay with me now, forever, I know. Like my shadow, he'll be. Always with me.

Mine own silver shadow.

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**Author's Note:** Please read and review . . . and while you're at it, read and review my other stuff, too! Lol! 


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